


Art Therapy, Part 2

by ShaylaMorgansen



Category: Elm Stone Saga - Shayla Morgansen
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaylaMorgansen/pseuds/ShaylaMorgansen
Summary: After visiting Glen in Valero, Lord Gawain discusses the alliance's future. Part 2 of a deleted chapter from 'Haunted'.
Kudos: 1





	Art Therapy, Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, Magic Makers! Today's deleted scene is a continuation of 'Art Therapy', a full chapter I had to remove from Haunted to keep the word count down. I couldn't find anywhere in Fractured for this content but you can assume this still happened in the story canon, behind the scenes. Enjoy!

The heavy wooden door was closed behind him and its guard, none other than Anouk’s childhood sweetheart Viktor Rodchenko, requisitioned from prison duty apparently, bolted it closed and began the process of layering the front of the little house with wards to keep prying and stray thoughts out. A sterile white-padded room for the mind, fully protected. Lord Gawain felt unfiltered gratitude for these shaky allies of his. He couldn’t trust their next political move, but ten years at Anouk’s side had won Glen their complete loyalty, and he could trust in that.

When Glen and his recovery was the topic, they could talk like friends, but moving away from the izba, away from the one person the two very different societies now had in common, the slowly wandering party had to broach less certain subjects.

“Has your council given consideration to our offer?” Lord Gawain asked as they headed down the winding dirt road of the walled city. Medieval and austere, it wasn’t hard to see how a woman as hard and steely as Anouk Kashnikova had come into her power here. Most wouldn’t see it, but did have its own quiet, strong beauty – today especially, under a summer blue sky. Zarubin’s brittle laugh belied that summer warmth.

“It was an interesting motion to bring to our meet this morning, especially given our other agenda item,” he said. He eyed Gawain with that discerning look of Telepaths, narrow eyes crinkling in his hard, weathered face. “We are conducting an internal review of the White Elm Agreement.”

The Valero Agreement. Of course they would have their own name for it, though they’d never corrected Lord Gawain or anyone else when they’d called it by the name at the top of the old document. The centuries-old treaty between the nations was the foundation of their alliance, promising both peace and an ongoing trade of services – the White Elm’s protection from the encroaching modern world in exchange for the use of Valero’s infamous prison. It wasn’t often that a sorcerer committed crimes heinous enough to require that kind of punishment, but those few who had been caught and charged in Lord Gawain’s years as a councillor belonged nowhere else in the world, too dangerous in their magical abilities to be trusted to the mortal penal system.

“For what purpose?” Lady Miranda asked, perhaps rhetorically, because Lord Gawain could also sense the shifting sands of Fate reshaping the path around Zarubin’s words, infinite new possibilities opening up to accommodate this decision in the making. He felt his heart sink. While he _knew_ that Fate was taking them the long way to prosperity in the magical world, a time of unity and strong leadership, he didn’t know what this looked like, or what it would take to get there. Fate used this deep sense of knowing to communicate its wishes to him as one of its Seers – urging him to Morrissey Estate on the day of the storm, minutes too late to save the family; prompting him to promote Renatus on the council; insisting against his better judgement that he approve Renatus as Aristea’s master. Telling him to give Lisandro the Elm Stone despite weeks of council planning to avoid exactly that outcome. Pushing him to send Anouk and Renatus to Prague, not knowing what he was sending her to but _knowing_ it was part of the plan.

Part of a plan to undo Glen and unravel the White Elm’s alliance with Valero? Because that was what Zarubin was talking about.

“Yes,” the Russian agreed, overhearing Gawain’s accidental wondering. “We must assess whether this old agreement is still in the best interests of our people – whether a continued relationship with the White Elm is still in our interests.”

“You’re thinking of scrapping the alliance?” Miranda interpreted, disbelieving.

“A reassessment is more than fair. There were voices in our council chambers calling for the immediate dissolution of the treaty and the release of all former White Elm prisoners. It was considered an option but ultimately rejected.”

“Good to know,” Lord Gawain muttered. As they walked, a few Valeroan citizens passed in the narrow street, turning their gazes away. The voices extended beyond the chamber walls, evidently. “I had hoped that, given time to think on the situation, your people would have come to see the impossibility of what was suggested in Germany. _You_ must see sense. The idea that we would try to mislead your–”

“What I might think is not relevant,” Zarubin cut him off, waving a dismissive hand and turning down the next alley, heading back toward to the main street. Lady Miranda and Jadon trailed behind in silence, their sneakers kicking up the dust of the winding, well-travelled path. “We have said as a collective that we will wait for evidence to the contrary. So. We will wait.”

“And the future of two nations hangs in the balance in the meantime?” Lord Gawain queried bluntly. Zarubin shrugged carelessly. Jadon scratched his ear and spoke up.

“Renatus has picked up where Anouk left off in her search into likely conscripts of Magnus Moira. He says even with Aristea’s help it’s going to take him months.”

“Anouk’s familiarity with our Archives made the task swift for her,” Lord Gawain explained. Zarubin looked annoyed.

“I feel like this is your own fault for, what is your expression? Placing eggs in a single basket?”

“We don’t think we did,” Jadon said, speeding up to get into pace with Zarubin. “We think that same knowledge is in Glen. He could be of immeasurable help to them, if–”

“ _If_ , yes, if he could communicate with them, which he _cannot_ ,” the Russian reminded him impatiently. “I hope your best proof of White Elm innocence is not with him or we could be hanging in the balance, as you put it, for some time.”

“For how long?” Gawain asked, reflecting on what Renatus had told him yesterday in Anouk’s old classroom. He and the unusually dark and silent Aristea had spent the whole day combing through old files and were today at Stonehenge in the Archives, developing their lists. It really would take them weeks or months. Renatus worked well with something particular to focus on, but the council leader was also wary of keeping the increasingly volatile pair inactive for a long-term task like this. Renatus wasn’t talking about it, but Aristea had left the estate for the first time unattended this week, spurred to impulsive action by a perceived threat to her sister and landing herself halfway across the continent.

Not to mention, each day that passed with the two governments at odds and Valero considering breaking the treaty was another day for the sands of Fate to slip further along new pathways. A Seer in the senior years of his life, immersed in his magical heritage for most of his years, the White Elm’s leader had experienced many lessons in patience, in letting go and letting destiny play out. But it never got any easier to stand back and relinquish control. A decision _today_ could prevent futures from falling away and prevent less appealing pathways from eventuating in the meantime.

What did Fate care how it got where it was going?


End file.
